


more myself than I am (whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same)

by anbethmarie



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically, F/M, They really have that soulmate energy going on eh?, a series of major misunderstandings, i just want my babies to be happy!, ignores ep 9, this is me putting jane eyre's and cathy earnshaw's words in anne's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:56:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anbethmarie/pseuds/anbethmarie
Summary: Anne and Gilbert have not seen each other since the fateful night of the Queen's entrance exams.She assumes he must by now be engaged to Winifred.He still assumes her drunken babbling meant she doesn't care.A chance encounter forces them to revise the truth of these assumptions.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 28
Kudos: 453





	1. I have as much soul as you -

**Author's Note:**

> Work title is a quote from Emily Bronte and chapter titles from Charlotte Bronte.  
> Subchapter titles are fragments of Emily Dickinson poems.

**I.  
**

**At least it solaces to know that there exists a gold / although I prove it just in time its distance to behold**

She was in love with Gilbert Blythe, then.

And, for all she knew, Gilbert Blythe was engaged to marry another woman.

This was hardly a joyous consideration, but Anne Shirley Cuthbert was – for all her romantic notions and hyperactive imagination – too free-spirited and conscious of her worth as an autonomous person to think that, from now on, her future was going to be but one bleak vista of solitary brooding on how _tis’ better to have loved and lost than not have loved at all_.

At least, she did not think that longer than the space of one sleepless, tearful night.

When she got up in the next day and looked out upon the freshness of the early summer morning, she couldn’t help but know that, whatever it was going to take, she was going to make a beautiful life for herself, a life filled with adventure and happiness and _love—_

(even if it was never to be the same kind of love which a certain pair of dark brown eyes had once seemed to promise and to ask for on the steps of a moonlit midnight porch).

For, as the first acute pang of disappointment died down, Anne could feel, inexorably and inevitably, a deeper feeling of regret set in and become a kind of undercurrent to her daily existence: on a myriad occasions, her first, instinctive thought would be, _I wonder what Gilbert is going to say about this?_

And immediately would come the remembrance that it was no longer her right to know Gilbert’s thoughts and opinions or to share hers with him: and it was as though her own response was diminished by whatever he might have added to it by agreeing – or disagreeing – with her.

She truly believed that if there was such a thing as Shakespeare’s _marriage of true minds_ , a love which _alters_ not _when it alteration finds_ , she and Gilbert could have had it, and the thought that they had let it go, as it seemed, so easily, was, to say the least, disheartening.

Anne was too much of a realist not to be aware that there were precious few men prepared to take her seriously, to treat her as their intellectual and spiritual equal the way Gilbert had always done. There was certainly none among her present acquaintance, and for all she knew there never would be.

 _When I am from him, I am dead till I be with him_ , she remembered reading once in some old, musty folio. But that was _not_ the case here – Anne knew she was a whole, and an eminently _alive_ person all in her own right.

The point was, she was somehow yet _more_ alive, more herself when she was with Gilbert – as though, instead of seeking to suppress the force of her personality the way most people – most _men_ – did, he, by his mere presence at her side, not so much complemented as enhanced her scope for feeling and thinking and _being_.

All of which was, of course, highfalutin, exalted nonsense.

Only it felt painfully true.

**II.**

**What fortitude the Soul contains / that it can so endure / The accent of a coming foot / The opening of a door!**

Two weeks have passed since the day of the Queen’s entrance exams, and Anne had not seen Gilbert to speak to during that time.

It was not that she was avoiding him on purpose. It was simply that she had no interest in hearing him announce the news of his engagement to Winifred sooner than was absolutely inevitable. She did have the right to that much, didn’t she?

If he was callous enough to care to be congratulated by her personally, let him seek her out for himself, and she would do her utmost to stand still and look cool and poised as she wished him every happiness in the life he had chosen.

For more than that, no one could possibly ask.

***

On the Monday at the beginning of the third week of their – well, _separation_ – Anne set out early in the morning to the Bright River train station, having been sent by Marilla to do the necessary and long-put-off shopping in Charlottetown.

The journey and the errand-running passed off uneventfully enough, and soon she was back on the Charlottetown platform waiting for the homebound train to come in.

As she was pushing her way through the corridors trying to find an empty seat, she was suddenly stopped dead in her tracks by the sight of an only too-well-known head of dark brown curls bent over a book.

‘Get move on, miss,’ said a gruff, loud voice behind Anne, and Gilbert’s head snapped up.

Since she clearly _had_ to move on, and since it would be sheer rudeness to ignore Gilbert’s inviting wave of the hand towards the unoccupied place opposite his own, Anne, precipitated by a push from the irritably bustling man behind her, stumbled miserably down and onto the seat.

She took in a deep breath, straightened herself, and looked up to see Gilbert look back at her with, of all things, an angry expression on his face.

‘Are you here all alone?’ he asked.

Anne, who had been resolving to keep whatever was left of her dignity, instantly forgot all about it and flared up.

‘Aren’t _you_?’ she snapped back. ‘Anyway, how is that something for you to sit scowling at me about? You’re not my keeper, you know.’

The tips of Gilbert’s ears went red.

‘I only meant, that man had no right to speak to you like this, and if I had known you have no escort I would have told him so,’ he replied stiffly.

Anne rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, spare me your knight-errantry, will you? If I thought it advisable to quarrel with stuck-up old men I would have told him off myself. Only I hate to waste my time in useless arguments with people who wouldn’t take me seriously anyway.’

‘And I hate to see you being pushed around, and would gladly have made it clear to that bloke!’ Gilbert countered, and there was an odd edge to his voice which made Anne forget her irritation and stare at him in surprise. ‘Is it so very incredible to you that I’d rather not simply sit on and watch someone I care about be disrespected like this?’

He looked so genuinely upset Anne, feeling both confused and uncomfortable – did he serious just say he _cared_ about her? was he _crazy_? – glanced away from his face and down at the book which lay open in his lap.

It was a chemistry handbook.

Of course. Now that the Sorbonne was a reality, he could not afford to take any time off his studies, not even in the middle of summer vacation.

A sharp pang tugged at Anne’s heart and, suddenly realising how unutterably stupid it was of her to provoke Gilbert into quarrels now that their time together was drawing to an inevitable and final end, she schooled her features into a calm, bland smile and, looking up at him again, said noncommittally,

‘The truth is, I’ve finally succeeded in convincing Marilla to allow me to take this trip on my own. You know, she had to come to terms with the fact that in a few weeks’ time I’ll be travelling alone between Queen’s and home all the time. I mean,’ she emendated quickly with a silly flash of some superstitious fear, ‘if I _do_ get into Queen’s, of course.’

Gilbert, who had begun listening to her recital with a somewhat guarded expression, was, by the end of it, fairly grinning.

‘Anne, I’ll never believe you have any serious doubts about that,’ he said. ‘Come on, admit your one fear is not that you might not pass, but that you might not come in first.’

‘I have not thought about that at all,’ Anne lied, annoyed by the teasing spark in his eyes.

‘Indeed? And you would not be in the least disappointed to find yourself beaten to it by—by someone else?’

‘Of course not,’ Anne declared primly – and then, not wishing to lie too brazenly, added, ‘I mean, it would depend on _who_ that someone was. If by some improbable chance it was Charlie Sloane who got in first, I must in all fairness admit I would not cherish the fact.’

Gilbert laughed. ‘Poor Charlie. And he would probably dedicate his victory to you, too.’

‘Gilbert, you’re not funny!’ Anne protested, feeling her cheeks heat up. ‘And anyway, if he _did_ come in first, you wouldn’t be so very happy about it either. You would know there must be something ratty about it.’

‘No, you’re right,’ Gilbert admitted thoughtfully. ‘It would probably mean his mother managed to bribe the board director, or something corrupt like that. Well then,’ he went on, fixing Anne once again with a rather disconcertingly direct gaze, ‘is there no one else you would mind getting the better of you in this battle?’

‘I don’t think of this in terms of a _battle_ , you bloodthirsty male barbarian,’ she countered deprecatingly, frowning a little as she looked away from him and out of the window. ‘And no, I _wouldn’t_. Of course there can only be one winner, but we all did our best, and that’s what counts.’

‘You wouldn’t mind it if I beat you, then?’

Anne, who had been congratulating herself on a praiseworthily selfless remark, could not prevent her eyes from snapping back to his face with treacherous quickness.

Gilbert was looking back at her with a half-playful, half-serious expression, as though – as though he _really_ wanted to know.

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she said, her voice rather small. ‘If _you_ beat me, it would be truly fair and square. It would be – yes, I believe it would be as good as coming in first myself, actually.’

She had not meant to say this, but it was true. Hauntingly true.

Gilbert’s eyes went rather wide, and his face lost all its defences for a moment, making Anne’s heart give a stutter as she looked back into it, unable even to blink.

With a tremendous lurch, the train came to a halt at Bright River station, and they both fairly jumped up off their seats.

As Anne scrambled down onto the platform, she noticed with dismay that her hands were shaking.

All those days – _weeks_! – of telling herself she was just as well off without him – and one unwittingly spoken sentence, one unguarded look was enough to undo it all.

Blast Gilbert Blythe. And blast her own silly self for being a silly, emotional goose.

***

For some more moments, Anne was so discomfited with both herself and Gilbert – for if his engagement to Winifred meant anything, it certainly meant that he had no right to look at her in _that_ way ever again – that she hardly noticed whether he was still behind her or not as she threaded her way out of the station and into the winding, dusty road which led to Avonlea.

‘It’s quite hot, isn’t it?’

Apparently, they were now going to be reduced to discussing the weather. Well then.

‘Quite,’ she replied shortly.

They went on in silence for a few moments, and then Anne was once again brought to a mental halt by the dreadful, hateful thought that she was wasting what was, in all likelihood, one of her very few last private conversations with Gilbert – perhaps _the_ last one.

After all, they could not possibly go on with their – friendship, or whatever it was – now that he was engaged to another girl.

It wouldn’t be right. And anyway, it would be way, way too painful.

It would be much better to make a clean cut of it and put it behind her – but meanwhile, there was the road which they had to traverse to get home, and they had to traverse it together, and she might as well leave him with the memory of her as a civilised, mature person rather than a sulking, taciturn child.

‘At least I still get to wear this,’ she said by way of continuing her reply to his comment on the state of the weather, pointing down at her girlish dress. ‘Rather than a full-length skirt. And since it’s my last summer of doing it, I'm pretty determined to make the most of it.’

‘You last summer of doing it?’ Gilbert said, sounding genuinely bemused. ‘Why?’

Anne laughed, although internally she was far from cheerful. ‘Why?’ she repeated mockingly, cocking her head at him with a teasing smile. ‘Did you think I was going to go to college wearing a kid’s outfit? Of course I must start wearing proper clothes. And do something about my hair, too.’

At that, Gilbert stopped walking.

‘Do _what_ about your hair?’ he demanded in a voice so undisguisedly upset that Anne, startled, whirled round to face him, wide-eyed.

‘Well – stop wearing it like this, I suppose,’ she said, gingerly touching one of her braids as she tried not to wince under his stare. ‘The truth is,’ she added in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, ‘Cole and Diana have been teasing me about these braids forever, and I suppose it’s high time I got rid of them.’

‘I like your hair just the way it is,’ Gilbert replied, curt and not very much to the point.

Anne’s heart did an awful flip, with the result that cheeks flared up.

‘Do you?’ she countered, doing her best to sound light-hearted. ‘I suppose it’s because carrots are your favourite vegetable?’

It was as though she’d slapped him, his expression changed so rapidly from upset to utterly miserable.

‘Anne, you don’t really resent that still, after all those years, do you?’ he asked, his voice low.

‘N-no, of course not,’ she stammered, taken aback by the sudden solemnity of the moment. ‘I truly don’t. I’m not _that_ petty, you know. I actually forgave you as soon as – well, soon enough, only I was too stubborn to admit it,’ she finished lamely with an awkward little laugh.

‘Then why do you want to get rid of it? Your hair, I mean. It is beautiful, it really is, and I’m sure that—‘

This was definitely not the proper way for the fiancé of one girl to be addressing another – certainly not with an expression like this – and it had to be put a stop to immediately.

‘Don’t be silly, Gilbert,’ Anne interrupted quickly, her voice rather strained. ‘I’m not going to cut it all off, or anything drastic like that. I only meant that I’m going to start wearing it up – you know, the way Win—the way Prissy Andrews did when she went to Queen’s.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. It’s going to be mighty uncomfortable, of course, but what’s a girl to do?’ she said lightly, resuming her walk and internally cringing at how she had found herself unable to bring up Winifred’s name.

If Gilbert wanted to talk about her, well and good – but he would have to begin himself. Anne, who was a mere mortal maiden and no saintly martyr, was determined not to make it any easier for him.

He caught up with her presently, and it seemed that another awful, meaningful silence was well on its way to fall between them.

Really, it was exasperating, the way he was content to allow the burden of making conversation to rest entirely with her!

‘So, as you see, I’m well on my way to a complete transformation,’ Anne continued, out of sheer inability to come up with any other safe subject. ‘You won’t know me when I finally go and do it, I’ll be so changed.’

Gilbert turned his head and looked at her with a small but somehow extremely disconcerting smile. ‘That’s not possible,’ he said simply.

Anne looked away, her heart fluttering wildly. She could have groaned with dismay. Was he crazy? Why did he keep making everything so bloody difficult?

‘Anyway,’ she began presently in a well-controlled, cool voice, goaded to it by both his attitude and her own reaction to it. ‘What were you doing in Charlottetown? I didn’t notice you on the morning train.’

Asking this question was like presenting a raw wound for him to pour salt into – but if Gilbert thought he could get away with pretending he had not chosen to bind himself to another girl Anne had no other choice but to make him remember it, and behave accordingly.

‘That’s because I wasn’t. I went up on Saturday and stayed the weekend in town.’

**III.**

**This merit hath the worst – it cannot be again**

Well.

She was silent, waiting for him to go on, to tell her how he and Winifred had gone – she didn’t know, buying wedding rings presumably. Although perhaps they’d wait to do that in Paris rather than at some provincial jeweller’s. Winifred might well prefer that.

She was so stunned by the mental picture which this presented that it took her a moment to realise Gilbert was saying something, and that it was not at all what she’d expected to hear.

‘—and so Dr Ward said, if I wanted to be present at the surgery I’d have to stay over through Sunday, and then I thought I might as well wait until today and go see—‘

‘You stayed with Dr Ward?’ she cut him off abruptly, looking sharply up at him in an attempt to focus.

Gilbert’s eyebrows shot up.

‘Well—yes, that’s what I’ve been talking about for the past two minutes.’ Scanning her face inquiringly, he laughed, a small, awkward chuckle. ‘Why, Anne, where have your thoughts been wandering? Here I am, sharing with you gruesome details of a case of appendicitis, and your mind is meanwhile soaring – whither, o maiden fair?’

For one mad second Anne considered replying ‘Paris’ in a deadly serious tone, just for the sake of seeing that smirk wiped off his face.

But what, after all, was to be gained by that? Nothing. Just like the fact that he was staying the weekend at Dr Ward’s rather than with Winifred’s family did not prove _or_ disprove anything.

Therefore, she simply shrugged, and looked away.

Another silence.

Anne had half a mind to start laughing hysterically. Would Gilbert _never_ get those words out? ‘Winifred said yes’. It was as easy as that. Was he seriously waiting for her to ask?

Impulsively, she looked up at him with an angry frown, and caught him gazing at her.

He had the decency to look flustered.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, laughing but anxious.

‘Nothing.’

‘Your face implies otherwise.’

‘Oh, bother my face!’ she spat out irritably. ‘You don’t always control your own so very well as one might wish—as one might _expect_ of a man about to—‘

She broke off, looking away.

‘About to what?’ Gilbert prompted, his eyes boring into the side of her averted head.

‘Nothing. Forget I said anything.’

‘Anne—‘

‘I said _forget it_!’ she exploded, stopping and turning upon him with a sudden fierceness which made him recoil in surprise. ‘I don’t want to waste whatever time we have left arguing, but I can’t help it if you keep provoking me like this! Let’s just both agree to keep our mouth shut, shall we?’

And, without waiting for a response, she turned back around and marched on, feeling disgustingly childish and ridiculous.

And it was _he_ who ought to be ashamed of himself! Meanwhile, there he was, back at her side, looking the picture of wronged innocence with his hands in his pockets and his eyes bent to the ground.

It was enough to drive a girl insane, it really was.

If only he would speak, and get the dreadful moment over with! Anne felt that until she heard the confirmation of his engagement from Gilbert’s own mouth she would know no peace – it seemed to her anything, any degree of _confirmed_ misery would be better than this awful, foolishly hopeful suspense.

They were passing along a rather narrow path, a shortcut leading through a copse of birches and other young, triumphantly green trees.

She heard Gilbert clear his throat in a significant kind of way, and her heart froze.

Then he stopped and turned to face her, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

For all the heat of the summer day, her hands felt cold and clammy.

‘I say, Anne,’ he began, giving her a tentative smile. ‘I’ve some news for you.’

‘Yes?’ she heard herself enquire in what she hoped was a politely encouraging tone.

She _would_ keep her head through this, she _would not_ have the ghost of her lack of control haunt her for the rest of her life.

‘I hope—I hope you will be glad to hear it.’

If she saw anyone else than Gilbert prepare to announce his engagement with so – well, _wretched_ – a look on their face, Anne was sure she would have found it perfectly ludicrous.

As it was, she merely felt sick to her very heart.

‘Of course I will,’ she somehow found the voice to say gently, her hand going out, quite of its own accord, to touch him encouragingly on the arm. ‘After all, I—‘ Her voice broke a little, but she remembered how her own self-respect depended on going through with this with dignity, and she recovered in a split second. ‘I’ve given you my blessing, haven’t I?’

At that Gilbert, who had been beginning to look not merely nervous but downright scared, relaxed into a more or less genuine smile. ‘Yeah, I suppose you have. Although I did kind of trick you into it. But I have your word for it all the same, so—‘

‘ _Trick me_ into it?’ Anne interrupted uncomprehendingly, an angry flash appearing in her eyes. ‘What—what on earth do you mean? Do you mean it was _on purpose_ that you came to me when I was in no state to even know what I was saying—‘

‘What?’ he countered with equal confusion. ‘No, Anne, I mean right now—on the train—‘

‘ _On the train_?’

‘Well, yes—‘

‘Gilbert,’ Anne began, bringing each word out with exaggerated, exhausted emphasis. ‘ _Just what are you talking about_?’

He blinked rapidly.

‘The—the Queen’s exam results, of course. What else?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe season 3 finale is just around the corner. I simply can't.  
> Ep 9 was so frustrating, the gradual destruction of Anne's letter to Gil probably cost me 5 years of my life.
> 
> Gilbert walking around like the typical moony moke he is and smiling softly because of his memories of Anne was beautiful tho. (Also, that ring he showed Mr Barry is the perfect colour for Anne lmao.)
> 
> This said, I'm still so, so scared for what's awaiting us in ep 10? Lots of people are betting Gilbert went to Charlottetown to break things off with Winnie but it seems simply too good to be true? And yet the season obviously must end on a shirbert note! (Anne and Gil dancing The Dashing White Sergeant with her wearing that blue dress? yes please)


	2. and full as much heart!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please excuse the cheesiness of the ending! :D

**III.**

**And if I gain? / oh, gun at sea / oh, bells that in the steeples be / at first repeat it slow!**

‘The exam results?’ Anne repeated, stunned and hoarse. ‘You mean you _know_ them?’

‘I do,’ replied Gilbert with a renewed smile, visibly relieved that his point finally got across but still somewhat wary. ‘I went to the post office on the off chance that they might have come in today. You know, they will only be posted to Avonlea tomorrow morning, so—‘

Anne was galvanised into a sudden fever of impatience.

‘Well then, show them to me, instead of standing there like a dummy!’ she demanded, her eyes darting all over him as though looking for the place where the paper containing the precious information might be hidden. ‘Oh, you really _are_ odious, Gilbert. Taunting me with the possibility that Charlie might have got in first and all that nonsense when all the time you knew – what _do_ you know?’

And then, as two and two came together in her mind – ‘You wouldn’t mind it if I beat you?’ – ‘I’ve given you my blessing’ – ‘I have your word for it’ – ‘just now, on the train’ – she froze, and gasped out slowly,

‘It – it’s _you_ who’s come in first, isn’t it?’ And when, in reply to that, he smiled a little wider, she proceeded, her voice gathering strength as she went, ‘Oh Gilbert, I’m so happy – so very happy for you – this is such wonderful, wonderful news – I know how important it is to you – especially _now_ – to get a really good result – and you came in first – first of our class?’

Gilbert was by now fairly grinning. ‘First of the Island.’

Anne gaped. ‘The—the _Island_?‘

And then, unexpectedly to both of them, she flung her arms around him and hugged him tight, in the elation of the moment barely conscious of the way the warmth of his body permeated through the thin fabric of the shirt he was wearing.

‘Gilbert, that’s wonderful,’ she said, laughing quietly into his shoulder as he held her a little closer against himself. ‘I’m so, _so_ happy for you.’

She let him go, and as she looked into his face and saw the pure joy written all over it her cheeks flared up and, dropping her gaze, she clasped her hands together in an attempt to stop herself from reaching for him again – the urge to do which when he was looking at her like this was painfully overwhelming.

‘But it’s not just me. I mean, the first place is a tie.’

Anne looked up, surprised and interested. And there it was again – that thoughtful, mischievous smirk.

‘Well,’ she began, uncertain whether he minded this or not. ‘I hope you know this takes nothing away from your achievement—‘

Unexpectedly, he laughed. ‘No, indeed it doesn’t. I’d even say it multiplies it – by two.’

Her eyebrows shot up, but before she could ask him to clarify he asked, his tones teasing,

‘Aren’t you interested to know how high you’ve scored yourself?’

‘Oh!’ Anne said, feeling extremely foolish – but the truth was she _had_ forgotten everything in her happiness and pride about Gilbert’s success – ‘Yes. Of course I am. Of course. Show me – give me that list.’

Gilbert fumbled in his bag, and eventually managed to extricate a somewhat crumpled sheet of paper from it.

‘I hope you won’t be too disappointed,’ he said, giving her a smile which – was she imagining things? – seemed to contain just a grain of mockery in it. ‘After all, as you said yourself, you _did_ do your best.’

‘Oh, just give me that already!’ Anne snapped impatiently, snatching the paper from his grasp.

Her hands were trembling so much she had some trouble unfolding the blasted sheet. Had she made a terrible fool of herself? It was all very well to be happy for one’s – friend – and to say how what mattered was the work one put into it all, and quite another to learn that one was—

_The Official Results of Queen’s Academy Entrance Examinations conducted in Charlottetown, PEI, Canada, on June 5 1899:_

_1\. Shirley-Cuthbert, Anne Bertha (Avonlea Village School) – 99.5%_

_1\. Blythe, Gilbert John (Avonlea Village School) – 99.5%_

_2\. Barry, Diana Eliza (Avonlea Village School) – 92%_

Everyone else – and there were well over 50 names – had scored under 90%; but this hardly mattered to Anne, who, with a yelp of joy, threw her arms around Gilbert once again, this time with such impetus that he fairly staggered under it.

‘Oh my God!’ she half-laughed, half-sobbed, tears of joy streaming down her face and wetting his shirt. ‘Oh my God, Gilbert, we’ve gone and did it!’

He laughed, his arm holding her close and secure around the waist.

‘Indeed we have, Anne-girl,’ he murmured, running his hand over her dishevelled hair.

This, combined with the undisguised tenderness in his voice and the shiver which his caress sent down her spine, made Anne back out of the embrace, laughing to cover her discomfiture, her cheeks flaming red.

‘Gilbert, this is truly a dream come true,’ she said, wiping the tears away with the back of her palm. ‘I simply can’t believe it.’

‘Well, _I_ can,’ he replied, and although his tones were teasing there was still something in his eyes which made it impossible for Anne to look directly into them. ‘You’re the smartest girl in the whole of North America, and I am prepared to go to any length for the sake of getting on your nerves.’

She sent him a quick, reproachful look.

‘Stop trying to spoil this moment for me – for _both of us_ – by talking nonsense, because you won’t succeed,’ she said, looking down at the paper in her hands to avoid holding his gaze. ‘Oh, this is simply _too_ wonderful— And Diana has come in second, and she hasn’t even done any extra studying—‘

‘So, you truly don’t mind the fact that you have to share your triumph – with me?’

A sharp pang seared right through Anne’s heart at that, and when she looked up at him it was with eyes wide and glistening with fresh tears.

‘Gilbert, it’s—it’s just like you said—just now,’ she began, stuttering as did her best not to break down utterly under his earnest, searching gaze. ‘It’s twice as wonderful to win alongside you. It was wonderful for me even to think that you came in first by yourself, but—but the fact that we did it _together_ —‘

Her voice failed her, and, shaking her head, she dropped her gaze to the paper again, pressing one trembling hand against her forehead in an attempt to pull herself together.

All this was much, much harder than she’d thought it would be.

She felt the warmth of Gilbert’s hand on her arm, and looked up.

He wasn’t smiling anymore. Indeed, he looked rather terrifyingly serious.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, blinking away the tears that would not stop coming. ‘It’s only – I’m _so_ glad.’

‘So am I,’ he said quietly.

Suddenly, another depressing thought occurred to Anne, and she blurted out before she could even think the advisability of it over,

‘Are you _sure_ , Gil? Are you sure you don’t—I don’t know, resent this? I mean,’ she went on quickly, seeing his face could over, ‘not personally, but as a hindrance to—to your potential acceptance to,’ – it was ridiculous really, but she had a physical difficulty getting the words out – ‘to whatever college you’re going to apply to in—in Paris?’

He let go of her arm and stood silent, a small frown between his brows and his eyes averted.

And Anne, who had recently been spending a lot of time adapting herself to the inevitability of giving up what where, in the final analysis, much more important things, said, her voice quiet but steady,

‘Because if it would be of any help, I’m willing to—I don’t know, go see the examiner and tell him I don’t feel like I should have scored quite so many points on some odious arithmetical question or another—it really would be all the same to me, and if it could in any way benefit your future in—in France, I’d—‘

‘Anne,’ he cut in, sudden and sharp, looking up and straight into her startled, wide-eyed face. ‘I’m—I’m not going to France.’

**lV.**

**For Heaven is a different thing: / conjectured, and waked sudden in / and might o’erwhelm me so!**

‘Not—going?’ Anne repeated, incredulous.

 _Why not?_ She longed to ask, but the words simply would not make it through her throat.

‘No. At least,’ he added, a small, lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his lips, even though his eyes remained thoughtfully, seriously fixed on hers, ‘Not in foreseeable future. Someday, perhaps I might – if I strike really lucky.’

‘So, you _are_ going to Queen’s after all?’ she asked, just to be sure.

‘Yes. Just like we’ve planned,’ he added, smiling again.

Anne’s knees went weak with the relief this affirmation brought her – Gilbert was _not_ going away, he was _not_ going to live on the other side of the globe, she would actually get to see him on a daily basis!

She groped around somewhat blindly until her hand encountered the roughness of the trunk of one of the trees which boarded the path, and gratefully let her back sink against it.

Only then did the momentary blankness of thought disappear, and she realised that Gilbert was saying something, with extreme seriousness, and also with audible anxiety.

Why on earth did he only ever begin to talk when she was too distraught to listen? What was he—

‘—and I simply couldn’t go through with it. It wouldn’t have been honest to—to any of the people concerned. It would have been living a lie.’

‘A lie?’ Anne repeated, catching hold of the word as one that at least had some definite meaning. ‘What lie? Who did you lie to?’

Gilbert looked back at her silently, and she found her body tense up, as though it knew it had to prepare itself for—for something very, very important, even though her mind was still a complete muddle.

‘Myself, to begin with,’ he said eventually, his voice quiet but distinct. ‘When—when I thought I could replace you with anyone else.’

‘Replace me?’ she croaked out. ‘In what sense?’

It was terrible. Why couldn’t she behave with dignity _now_? She could when she thought he was going to inform her of his engagement to Winifred. Now he was, as far as she could gather, informing her to the contrary, and she was going to absolute pieces.

‘I thought – I thought what I felt for you would just wear off in time if I did my best to let it,’ he said, slowly, stiltedly. ‘But whenever I managed to convince myself I was beginning to get over you, you went and—and did or said something which pulled me back – or you just simply _were_ there, were _yourself_ , and I—I know I’m not making any sense,’ he finished, giving her a rueful smile as she simply gazed back at him mutely, her eyes enormous in her pale face.

‘No, it’s all quite clear to me,’ Anne said weakly. ‘At least, from what I can gather, you’ve found me difficult to get rid of. I guess it’s true. I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry?’ Gilbert repeated, confused. ‘For what?’

‘For—for being in your way, I suppose.’

‘In my way?’

‘Well, isn't that what you’ve just said? And what you said the night of the exam as well?’ she demanded, the blood in her veins beginning to pump with some strength again as her chief emotion changed from bewilderment to bitter anger. ‘That I’m basically what’s keeping you from achieving your dreams?’

‘Anne, it’s not—‘

‘Then kindly tell me what _more_ I can do, and I’ll do it gladly!’ she went on, pushing herself away from the tree and coming a step closer to him, her eyes darting sparks of steel. ‘Because I’ve been fighting the urge to go after you and beg you not to marry her every second of the past two weeks, and now you have the nerve to accuse me of not allowing you to move on with your life!’

She felt the tears begin to burn at the back of her eyes, and blinked them away impatiently.

Gilbert simply stared at her, his eyes wide and stricken.

‘I hate you, Gilbert Blythe!’ Anne cried, her control breaking down utterly as she took another step towards him and gave him a pathetically ineffectual shove on the chest. ‘I hate you! I wish to God you had left me alone at Billy’s mercy that day in the forest! I wish—I wish I had been gifted with some beauty and much wealth, and then I should have made it as horrible for you to be rejected by me as it is for me to be treated like a stumbling block—like an obstacle to your brilliant career—by you! I wish—‘

She stopped, for at that moment Gilbert grasped both her wrists in a tight clasp and drew her so close she had to throw her head back to look him in the eyes.

‘Anne, for God’s sake, listen to me,’ he said, his voice quiet but forcible. ‘I don’t give a damn about money. It can be made. It can be borrowed, or it can be stolen. I don’t care. I was the biggest damned fool in the world when I thought it could mean anything, anything at all, compared to _this_ —‘ he separated her hands and placed one of her palms against the spot where his heart was thrumming wildly against his chest. ‘—compared to _you_. Ever since the day of the exams, I’ve been thinking about nothing else except how terribly meaningless my life is going to be without you in it. I—‘

His voice broke a little and he stopped, looking away with a frown.

‘I can’t even imagine it, Anne,’ he went on more quietly, looking back at her with a kind of abandoned desperation such as she had never seen, or imagined seeing, on anyone’s face before, and she trembled. ‘I _can’t_. Because you _are_ my life. You’re everything to me. I love you. I—‘

Anne pushed herself up on her toes and crashed her lips against his.

She really couldn’t fight it any longer. As soon as those three words were out of his mouth, that was it as far as she was concerned.

In the fraction of a second, he got over his initial surprise and was kissing her back, his mouth moving hungrily against hers as his hands went up to cup her face and hers grasped frantically at the front of his shirt in an attempt to bring him _closer_.

An eternity passed, and their kiss got slowly more gentle and soft, and then they finally separated, both breathless and somewhat grotesquely startled with what they’d just done.

It was Gilbert who spoke first.

‘I love you,’ he repeated hoarsely, the sudden, exciting darkness in his eyes, which Anne instinctively knew bore out his words with physical evidence, making her shiver. ‘I love you so damn much.’

‘Why didn’t you say so before?’ she demanded, a note of resentment creeping into her voice in spite of herself. ‘Instead of letting me assume – all kinds of crazy things—‘

She realised she was laughing and crying at the same time, and feeling completely lightheaded into the bargain.

Smiling uncertainly, Gilbert swept his thumbs lightly across her face and wiped the tears away.

‘I thought you didn’t care.’

Anne knew he was speaking the truth – both his eyes and his voice told her that – and could really not bring herself to be mad about it anymore.

Still, some truths _had_ to be delivered home.

‘You _do_ realise that I was drunk off my head the night of the exam? I barely knew what I was saying, and you went on about how marriage to Winifred would grant you everything you’ve ever dreamed of—‘

‘Everything – expect the one thing that truly matters,’ Gilbert interrupted, his eyes intense on hers. ‘I know I behaved like an idiot that day, Anne. In fact, I’ve been behaving like an idiot for the past six months. But,’ he added with a small, teasing smirk tugging at his lips, ‘you have to admit you've been giving me reasons to think you would not exactly find the idea that I cared for you particularly thrilling.’

‘Of course I have,’ Anne replied with simple honesty. ‘Sometimes, I was afraid to even look in your direction, and it used to make me so angry, and I took it out on you—then I thought I was imagining things—and then I saw you with her, and I knew, and I thought I had missed my chance—‘

She was beginning to cry again, and at that moment Gilbert cut her off with another quick, gentle kiss.

As she felt his lips on hers a sudden exhilarating thought occurred to Anne, and she laughed quietly against his mouth.

He drew away a little, smiling but somewhat confused. ‘What’s that about?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, and then laughed again, putting one of her hands up to his hair and combing her fingers through it as she had wanted to do so many, many times. ‘It’s just that I’ve just realised I can do _this_ now, whenever I want to.’

Instead of replying, Gilbert reached up and drew her hand down to his lips. Then he placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, and somehow this gentle caress, coupled with the expression of heartfelt joy and boundless admiration which filled his eyes, made Anne feel even more giddy.

_If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it . . . **He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.**_

It was true, then: it did happen. The all-conquering, once-in-a-lifetime, stronger-than-anything kind of love.

‘I love you, Gil,’ she whispered, putting her other hand up to his cheek. ‘I love you. We’re going make it, aren’t we? Together?’

‘Together,’ he confirmed with a smile.

And then, by way of proving he meant it, he leaned down to kiss her breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys a point I had not thought about earlier: while Anne's declared her love for Gilbert to half of Avonlea at this point, the four-letter word has not crossed HIS mouth with (explicit) reference to her yet!! And now I want him SO much to be the one to say it first when they finally confront each other!! (yes, I AM a believer in the guy saying it first, stone me to death for it if you like :D Anne probably isn't tho, so I'm not counting on that much :D)


End file.
